


Five emotions Ryan Nugent-Hopkins didn't expect to feel the year he made the NHL

by athenejen



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Cuddling and Snuggling, Edmonton Oilers, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:56:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athenejen/pseuds/athenejen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ryan Nugent-Hopkins spends a lot of time hanging out with Taylor Hall and Jordan Eberle, thinking too much and having far too many feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five emotions Ryan Nugent-Hopkins didn't expect to feel the year he made the NHL

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doctor_denmark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor_denmark/gifts).



> Many thanks to jamethiel_bane and silverspotted for their fantastic and extremely helpful beta work.
> 
> Written as a gift for doctor_denmark for Hockey Holidays 2011.

1\. **Jealousy.**

Because hell, he'd _made the NHL_ ; it was hard to imagine wanting anything else. He was prepared, he was determined, he felt sure of his place on the team. He was closer to home than most hockey players got to be—not exactly close, but not too far, either—and Edmonton was only two hours from Red Deer, too, so all of that seemed familiar, by and large.

Most of all, he really clicked with the guys, and not just on the ice. They didn't seem to mind when he didn't feel like talking, and whatever ribbing he took about it always had this warm tinge of what Ryan had eventually realized was affection. It was... nice. But it was also more complicated than he'd initially assumed.

During the days leading up to the Draft, Ryan had spent some time reading up on all the teams he thought might take him. He always paid pretty close attention to NHL news anyway, but instead of keeping track of the usual stats and strategies, goals and saves, he found himself focusing more and more on the intangibles. Attitude. Team dynamics. How players on the benches acted at different points in games, and who ended up as spokesmen afterwards and how they approached it. Those pre-game snapshots of the dressing rooms, guys sitting next to each other in stalls, or pulling on gear, or kicking around a soccer ball. All the things that he knew from experience made a team a _team_ , and not just a collection of guys who happened to play hockey on the same ice. He also tried to find interviews from as many of the current Oilers, Avs, Panthers, Devils, Islanders, Senators, and Thrashers/Jets players as he could—not that it seemed all that likely that he'd drop to seventh pick, but there was nothing wrong with being prepared.

In the process, he'd watched a _lot_ of Hallsy's interviews. Really a lot. Really, really, really a lot.

Which meant that when Hallsy called him about a week before the draft, he recognized his voice immediately.

Not that he'd told him that, or anything. He'd been too busy being surprised that Taylor Hall was calling him, and by the time he'd snapped out of it, Hallsy had barreled past introductions and launched right into reassuring him that the draft was going to be awesome.

Which, yeah. It was the draft, and therefore inherently awesome in between the boring bits, but Ryan would be lying if he said it wasn't nice to hear it from Hallsy. If anyone would know, he would.

Plus, he kind of thought maybe this meant the Oilers really were interested. Every NHL team had guys he'd love to play with, of course, but he'd spent some good, quality time on watching Hallsy and Ebs play together, and he could see exactly where he'd fit, and that was.

That was. It just... was.

The day of the draft, he ran into Hallsy on the draft floor, in between the endless media scrums and his mom constantly re-straightening his tie.

He could feel himself ducking his head a little, glancing down at the toes of Hallsy's extremely shiny black dress shoes and then back up to meet his eyes for the obligatory handshake. Hallsy grinned widely at him, looking more relaxed and uncomplicatedly happy than pretty much anyone else in the room, and told him to enjoy it, because there was nothing else like it. Ryan assured him that he would, and let Hallsy pull him into a quick half-hug-shoulder-bump-thing before they went their separate ways, at least until Ryan's name was called and he ended up onstage with Hallsy and Steve Tambellini and Gary Bettman and all the people whose job it was to hold stuff and then hand it to people, yanking the Oilers jersey over his head and beaming into the camera afterwards.

That night, he and his family went out to dinner with all the Oilers people who were at the draft. He'd ended up sitting between Hallsy and one of the scouts, who peppered him with an extended list of questions about the various Rebels he'd played with in juniors, as well as guys from other teams that they'd played against. After a while, Hallsy broke in to ask him about video games, which led them to television shows (they shared a mutual affection for both _Family Guy_ and _Mythbusters_ ), which led them to movies (and twenty minutes arguing about who was the best James Bond), which somehow led them to other sports they'd played as kids, and by the time they'd finished with that, it was time to go back to the hotel and crash.

He didn't see Hallsy again until he got to Edmonton during the lead-up to training camp, but it was like they just picked up where they left off, joking about _The Simpsons_ and discussing which Avenger they'd rather be in between talking hockey. It was easy, it was comfortable, and it probably helped calm him down enough to make camp way less stressful than he might otherwise have found it.

The first time he met Ebs was around that time; Hallsy broke off from enthusing about his summer training regimen in mid-sentence in order to hug Ebs and thump him on the back several times, and kept his arm hooked around Ebs's neck as he dragged him over to Ryan. Ebs wasn't quite as naturally gregarious as Hallsy, but he let Hallsy bring Ryan into the fold without blinking an eye, and for the first several weeks, that was more than enough.

They invited him along to ice cream, took him to a nearby park and the three of them sat at a picnic table under some trees to enjoy the last of the warmer weather before winter set in. Ryan sat at the end, cross-legged and staying mostly quiet, grinning at Hallsy and Ebs as they shoved at each other and tried to steal bites of each other's ice cream cones. Afterwards, they'd dropped him off at his hotel room, and before he'd conked out with post-game exhaustion finally catching up with him, he'd felt warm all over just thinking about it, even though really, ice cream should more logically have made him feel cold all over.

He'd kind of assumed it was a one-time deal, just a passing effort to be nice to the rookie or whatever, and when they went off together on their own after the next game, he just shrugged and went straight back to the hotel and flipped through random channels until he fell asleep.

He can't deny that he felt that same little thrill of warmth again, though, when the following week, they invited him to dinner at their place.

Of course, that was before they told him that they were planning to actually cook the dinner themselves. There was only a cold chill of apprehension after that. But it turned out that Ebs was pretty good at following directions, and Hallsy's mom had bought them a couple of basic cookbooks when it became clear they were staying with the big club, so the pot roast was way better than Ryan expected it to be.

After dinner they played NHL 12, each of them taking their CHL team to avoid fighting over the Oilers. At first Ryan was shy about getting involved in the rounds that he wasn't personally playing in, but by the end of the night he was dishing out trash talk and advice in equal measure and without hesitation. Though he still didn't shout as much as either Hallsy or Ebs.

It became a thing they did, dinner and Xbox every week or two depending on their schedule, and as the weeks went on, Ryan felt more and more comfortable, and less like an interloper, though it was hard to remove that feeling entirely. Hallsy and Ebs were close, he knew, really close, and it was in a way he didn't quite understand. Sure, they were roommates, but Ryan'd had roommates before (even if you didn't count sharing a room with his older brother when they were really little) and it had never seemed quite like that. And then there was the whole making the team the same year thing, which was kind of like growing up together, only in a walking-through-flames sort of way. But in the end, Ryan figured it was really just as simple as Hallsy and Ebs being best friends. He was never going to be quite as close to either of them as they were to each other, but that was okay. They were still his friends, even more than they were his teammates, and that was good enough.

None of which explained the way his stomach cramped up when he caught them making out in the hallway. They'd had the game paused, taking a break, all three of them having gone separate directions—Ryan to get a drink of water, Hallsy to the bathroom, and Ebs to call his mom... or at least that's where Ryan thought they'd gone. But as he was coming back from the kitchen he heard this odd scuffling sound from the hallway, so he poked his head in to look, and...

Yeah.

He suddenly felt very alone.

 

2\. **Confusion.**

Ryan didn't do confusion. He'd decided not to, after that time when he was five and couldn't decide between the black helmet or the blue one, and by the time he'd settled on blue a week later, both of those were sold out and he'd had to settle for red, which wasn't nearly as cool. So now he's a decision-maker. A maker of decisions. Careful decisions, quick decisions, smart decisions, but most of all, _decisive_ decisions. And he never, ever second-guesses himself. He might revise his opinion later based on new evidence or extended observation, but always with a clear mind and deliberate thought.

And see, he'd decided. He needed space. He would spend time with other people, get to know the other rookies, soak up knowledge from the veterans, and above all, concentrate on hockey.

He'd be professional, he'd be friendly, they'd still talk in the dressing room and on the ice, but outside of that, he had to step back.

He _had_ to.

And for two weeks, he'd done just that. He ducked out of the dinner invites with the kind of lame excuse of the pace of the NHL season getting to him, but neither of them called him on it—Hallsy had just clasped him on the shoulder and told him to get some more sleep, and Ebs gave him this half-smile that Ryan had to look away from before returning.

He didn't miss them, because that would be dumb. He saw them for hours practically every day. He didn't have time to miss them!

But somehow, about two and a half weeks into his new resolution, he found himself agreeing to go out for ice cream with them after a hard-fought win. He spent the entire car ride trying to figure out why the hell he'd said yes. Of course, it wasn't a particularly long car ride, and also Hallsy distracted him with an analysis of what they should've done on the power play tonight instead of what they did do, so he didn't really have the chance to figure it out before they pulled into the parking lot.

It was pretty much exactly like that first time the three of them had gone out for ice cream, except, well, _winter_ , so they grabbed a table inside instead of going to the park.

And also, after they'd eaten their ice cream and spent a half-hour or so talking about _Heroes_ and _Alphas_ and what their superpowers would be if they had them, instead of dropping Ryan off at his apartment, they asked him if he wanted to come back to their place to hang out.

And even though he knew he shouldn't, he said yes.

He said yes when they asked him if he wanted a beer, he said yes when they asked him if he wanted to play NHL 12, and he didn't object when they squished him in between them on the couch, even though usually they sat in their recliners and left him to sprawl out on the couch by himself.

He didn't object when Hallsy reached across him to slap at Ebs's hands to throw him off his game during a penalty shot, he didn't object when Ebs leaned most of the way into his lap to wrestle Hallsy's controller away from him, and when Hallsy fell asleep while Ryan and Ebs were playing, he let him snuggle into his side and found himself trying to move his right arm less in order to not disturb him.

By some silent mutual accord, Ryan and Ebs turned off the Xbox after finishing their game. Ebs drew his knees to his chest up and turned towards Ryan, tucking his toes under Ryan's left leg.

After about two minutes of continuing a conversation they'd started earlier about their siblings, Ebs leaned back and stretched out his legs, settling them lightly across Ryan's lap. Hallsy seemed to be out cold, not even stirring when Ebs's calves jostled him.

They sat like that for at least an hour, Ebs and Ryan talking in low voices while Hallsy stayed slumped into Ryan's side, asleep. Ebs's legs were warm on Ryan's lap, heavy in a pleasant way, and Ryan would've been okay with this night lasting forever, especially if they could cycle back to the beginning and win a hockey game again and again and again.

Eventually, though, Ebs sighed, stretched, and swung his legs out of Ryan's lap.

"We should probably get to bed, make sure we can make it to afternoon practice," he said, standing up. "Here, I'll get you a blanket and you can sleep on the couch."

"'Kay," replied Ryan, but Ebs had already wandered away down the hall, presumably to look for a blanket. Ryan looked down at the top of Hallsy's head and thought about trying to wake him up, but before he could figure out the best way, Ebs came back with a brown paisley comforter than looked suspiciously like something someone's mom would buy.

He set it on the couch next to Ryan, right where he'd been sitting, then leaned over to poke at Hallsy's shoulder.

"Hallsy," he said quietly, pushing at his shoulder until Hallsy twitched. "Taylor. Time for bed."

Hallsy jerked awake and away from Ryan's side, tense for a second or two before relaxing again. He smiled sleepily at Ebs, and Ryan felt his heart constrict, just a touch. Hallsy held out his hands to Ebs, who hauled him off the couch, and Hallsy got a couple of steps away before turning back so he could ruffle Ryan's hair and grin at him. "'Night, Nuge."

"G'night," said Ryan, and glanced towards Ebs to include him, too. Ebs smiled back, looking tired but content, before steering Hallsy down the hall towards their bedrooms.

Ryan realized suddenly that he had no idea if they slept in the same one or not, and the hallway was dark enough that even after listening to doors open and close as Ebs shuffled to the bathroom and then checked on the front and back doors before heading to bed, he still wasn't certain, and he was sure as hell not going to get up and go check.

Instead he turned off the TV, cocooned himself into the comforter, and tried to go to sleep. He was exhausted, so it shouldn't have been that hard. But all he could think about was Ebs and Hallsy and if maybe Hallsy had woken up enough that they were kissing instead of sleeping right now, and he just couldn't stop thinking about it, even though he really needed to because there were some feelings he _refused_ to have while on someone else's couch. He should've said no to coming over here, but thinking that made his chest hurt, and really, he should just go the fuck to sleep already.

He pulled the blanket over his head and breathed in deep a couple of times. It smelled familiar, comforting. Like... laundry detergent. Their laundry detergent, he realized, just as he finally drifted off to sleep.

He woke up in the morning with the blanket still draped over his face and a seriously inconvenient boner.

 

3\. **Lust.**

The thing was, it wasn't like he'd never wanted anyone before. He was eighteen fucking years old, tons of things got him hard, and he'd known he was attracted to guys for years. Joe Sakic had pretty much been his first crush, back when he was almost too young to understand what a crush even was. Which was why, when he thought about it, maybe it was actually more strange than not that he'd never really felt anything much about a teammate before, besides friendship. This whole thing where he felt things about _two_ teammates? Not the way he would've wanted to start out. He was stuck with it, though. Apparently.

He kept thinking that maybe if he ignored it, it would go away. That if he could just spend enough time away from them, or if nearby them, then at least distracted by other things (like hockey, hockey was always the best distraction), he could just... get the fuck over it. People got over other people all the time, right? And stayed friends with them? Because that part was way more important than anything else. They were his teammates, his _linemates_. And the idea of not being friends with them anymore...

Just, no. Friends. That was the goal.

So in the locker room, he joked with them like usual. He let Hallsy throw his arm around his neck in a modified headlock, and resolutely did not think about how the crook of his shoulder smelled like some devilish combination of soap, sweat, laundry, and aftershave. He sat next to Ebs at team dinners and ignored the heat of his leg pressed against his. He turned down a dinner invitation, but went along for ice cream, because surely that's what a friend would do. Of course, he then realized that dinner would've been a way safer option, as he spent most of the ice cream trip staring fixedly at his own cone, because every time he glanced up he accidentally ended up watching one or the other of them eat their ice cream for intense, heart-stopping seconds at a time, and those were not visuals he needed in his life right now. How he'd missed this problem the first couple of times he'd gone to ice cream with them, he wasn't sure, but it was definitely a problem now.

Also a problem, he'd gotten so caught up in thinking about that, he found himself back on their couch playing NHL 12 again without any conscious decision-making on his part. Unfortunately, Xbox-based hockey was way less distracting than the real thing, which meant that his awareness of the two other guys on the couch was pretty much constant. Being able to feel every shift of their bodies wasn't so bad, but the accidental meditation on the shape of Hallsy's hands was a bit much, and when Ebs stood up and downed the last of his beer before going to the kitchen for another, Hallsy scored a goal in the time it took Ryan to shake himself out of staring at Ebs's throat.

Ryan managed to battle back and win the round, and while normally he'd insist on sticking around to beat Ebs as well, tonight it seemed prudent to quit while he was ahead. He called a cab, then tried to explain that he could see himself out, but they insisted on following him to the foyer to stand around with him while he pulled on his winter coat and gloves and hat.

He'd planned to just leave his scarf hanging, but Ebs reached up and looped it around his neck, murmuring, "It's cold out."

Ryan ducked his head, burying his chin in the scarf. He could feel his cheeks flushing. "It's not _that_ cold."

"Yeah, Ebs!" Taylor elbowed Ebs in the side. "We're Canadian, this is nothing."

"So next week, _you're_ going to take the trash out at 6 AM?"

"I..." Taylor darted a glance over towards the kitchen, then back to Ebs, pouting just a little.

"Yeah, didn't think so." Ebs turned back to Ryan and punched him in the arm. "See you tomorrow at practice, Nuge."

"Yeah, see you!" Hallsy grinned at him, then jabbed Ebs in the side with his elbow again.

He could still hear them scuffling as he opened the door and walked down the steps. But when he gave in to temptation and glanced back as he opened the door to the cab, he could see that they'd stopped to watch him go, and were now standing in the open door, lit from above as Ebs held the door open. They waved at him, and he waved back, then got into the cab. Just as the cab was pulling away, he looked back at the house. Ebs was in the middle of closing the door, so Ryan didn't have a great view, but he didn't have to have a great view to notice the way Hallsy was leaning toward Ebs, his hand fisting in the hem of Ebs's shirt as his head tipped down.

And then the door closed, and the cab turned the corner, and Ryan had to lean forward and give the guy his address before collapsing back against the seat and closing his eyes for the ride home.

The next day, after practice (which included several retroactively embarrassing seconds of getting distracted by Ebs's eyelashes while they were waiting in line for a drill), Ryan called his mom.

"Hi, sweetie," she said immediately when she picked up the phone. "I'm on my way to a meeting, so I only have a few minutes to talk. Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he replied, and swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing painfully. "I just wanted to say hi."

"Uh-huh," she said, sounding unconvinced. "Why don't you tell me how practice went today?"

So Ryan rambled at her about the three-on-two drills they'd done that day, and how he'd been working on his backhand, and how awesome his teammates were, and she murmured and laughed and agreed in all the right places.

About fifteen minutes later, she had to go, but after they hung up he realized that even though he hadn't told her anything important, he felt better anyway.

Mom superpowers, or whatever. Must be.

He called her again three days later, in the afternoon. They'd had a game the night before, a particularly frustrating game, one of those where the ice always seemed crowded and no one's passes were connecting and the rhythm just seemed off all night. Even though Ryan usually just wanted to go home and collapse in bed after a game like that, he'd let Ebs and Hallsy talk him into keeping them company, he's not sure why. Too exhausted to argue, he suspected, but it was all a bit hazy.

They'd pushed him into his seat on the couch—and how fucked up was it that he'd started to think of the middle cushion as _his_ —and brought him microwave popcorn and Gatorade and made him watch both _Hangover_ movies. When he woke up halfway through the second one to find himself drooling on Hallsy's collarbone, he tried to sit up and mumbled something about going home, but Ebs just nudged him back down and went to get the blanket he'd used last time. Ryan fell back asleep as Ebs was tucking it around him, and when he next woke up, it was to sunlight filtering through the blinds of the living room and the quiet sounds of breakfast coming from the kitchen.

He was alone in the living room, and his neck was stiff from the weird angle it was hitting the armrest—where Hallsy had been, Ryan's brain supplied—and he could hear murmurs from the kitchen that probably meant both Hallsy and Ebs were awake and in there.

He kicked off the blanket and rolled to his feet, and got about halfway to the kitchen before making a ninety-degree turn and heading to the bathroom instead. He took a piss and then spent a couple of minutes staring at himself in the mirror, until he looked down and saw the new toothbrush set out on the counter, still in its packaging. It was just the cheap kind that you get for free at the dentist's office, but it was still a nice thought. So he brushed his teeth using the half-empty tube of toothpaste sitting on the counter, carefully squeezing from the end instead of the middle. It seemed like the thing to do, and if he felt a little more clear-headed afterwards, so much the better.

Clarity of mind was short-lived, however, as the first thing he saw upon entering the kitchen was Hallsy and Ebs, kissing. Ebs had Hallsy backed up against the sink, one hand hooked behind the nape of his neck and the other clutching the elastic waistband of his grey sweatpants. Hallsy, meanwhile, had both hands at Ebs's waist, thumbs stroking back and forth along bare skin.

Bare skin. _Bare skin_. And a lot of it, too, because both of them were shirtless, Ebs's blue plaid pajama pants riding low on his hips, and Ryan was pretty sure there were no boxers or briefs involved in this situation—besides his own, anyway, as he was suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was still in his clothes from last night.

It was kind of like an out-of-body experience: he couldn't move, he couldn't make a sound, he could only look. Smooth, smooth skin, the curve of Ebs's spine, the graceful dimples just above the tempting swell of his ass, the breadth of Hallsy's hands and the fine dusting of hair along his arms, the muscles in both their shoulders flexing and showing their strength.

As he watched, Hallsy's left hand brushed lower and lower down Ebs's back, until his fingertips snuck under the waistband of Ebs's pants, and then his fingers, and then his whole hand, so that even through the fabric Ryan could tell that Hallsy was cupping Ebs's ass with his hand. Then Hallsy's hand _squeezed_ , and Ebs moaned, and Ryan heard a squeak come out of his own throat. Hallsy and Ebs both froze.

"Um," said Ryan, as they slowly broke apart. "Uh. Sorry, I, uh. I didn't mean to interrupt." He still couldn't seem to move, but at least he had his voice back. Sort of, anyway.

"No, it's okay," said Ebs, turning towards him. Both he and Hallsy were flushed, and Ebs ducked his head and smiled a bit sheepishly at Ryan. "Do you want some breakfast?"

"We have cereal!" Hallsy leaned out from behind Ebs to grab a box of Honey-Nut Cheerios and wave it at Ryan.

"Or I think there's oatmeal in the pantry?" Ebs added. "And protein shakes in the fridge."

"Uh," said Ryan, intelligently. He was trying not to notice the way Hallsy's lips were even redder than they got in the cold of the arena during games, or how Ebs's pajama pants seemed to be threatening to slide off his hips entirely, or the grip Hallsy still had on Ebs's waist with his right hand, or—

"Ryan?" Ebs sounded worried.

Ryan blinked, then blinked again, and tried to smile. He convinced his feet to walk him over to the fridge. He took out the milk and put it on the counter. Ebs set a bowl down next to his elbow, and Hallsy handed him the Cheerios.

Ryan cleared his throat. "Yeah, cereal's good," he said, and poured himself a bowl. He adjusted himself surreptitiously as he sat down at the kitchen table; neither of them seemed to notice. At least eating gave him something else to concentrate on, and by the time he was done with the cereal, they'd gone off to shower (hopefully not together, oh god; Ryan shut his brain down immediately at that thought) and get dressed, which definitely helped.

Well, it helped in the short term, anyway. In the longer term, Ryan was pretty sure he was still screwed. And not in the fun way.

 

4\. **Impulsiveness.**

If Ryan didn't do confusion, he _definitely_ didn't do impulsiveness.

Analysis was important to him, thinking things through, seeing the ice clearly and calculating all the angles. Impulsive play was stupid play, and Ryan prided himself on always playing smart.

Some people might think instinct and impulse were the same, but Ryan knew that wasn't true. Instincts were something you honed, where you processed so fast and practiced so much everything just _worked_. Impulse was what happened when you ignored processing entirely, especially when you knew you shouldn't.

Pretending your impulses were actually instincts was a dangerous, dangerous thing. Ryan tried hard to not delude himself. He didn't believe in it.

So at least he was aware of behaving out of character, he told himself. Yeah.

Because that was the only explanation for the next conversation he had with his mom.

It was right after afternoon skate, several hours post-Awkwardest Breakfast Ever. They'd had a good practice, really focused and steady and _normal_. At least one thing in Ryan's life still made sense.

He'd rushed through his shower and escaped the arena without getting drawn into any conversations—he just, he needed to go home and be alone for a while. So he caught a cab home (he seriously had to stop letting Hallsy and Ebs give him rides everywhere, he had his own car, he just hardly ever seemed to actually use it), downed a huge bottle of Gatorade, then stripped down to his briefs and flopped facedown on the bed. He didn't bother turning on any lights, so there was only the dusky haze that filtered through the closed blinds on the window, and for a few minutes, it was like time had stopped and he had a moment to just hug his pillow and _breathe_.

Eventually, he leaned over the side of the bed, dug his cell phone out of his jeans pocket, and pressed speed dial one.

"Mom?" He wasn't proud of how shaky his voice sounded.

"Ryan, honey, are you okay? Are you hurt? Did something happen in practice?"

"No," Ryan swallowed hard, "no, I'm okay."

There was a pause. "All right, sweetie. Did I tell you, your brother just got a promotion?"

Ryan made a little negative sound into the phone, and let his mom tell him all about it, and then about the most recent chapter in her continuing battle with the DVR.

She'd just started in on discussing his cousin Jennifer's new boyfriend and how his aunt didn't approve at all, when he broke into the monologue.

"Mom?"

Another pause. "Yes, sweetie?"

Ryan took a deep breath, and then another, and another.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah, I, um. You remember how, prom, senior year? All my friends, we went as a group instead of taking dates?"

"Yes?"

"And I told you I just didn't have time for girls 'cause I needed to concentrate on hockey?"

"I remember." His mom sounded like she was smiling.

"Well, I, uh. Girls. They're not, I don't really, you know, I don't." He made a sound of frustration deep in his throat. "I don't like girls. I mean, they're fine as, you know, people, but I. I like guys."

"Oh, oh, _honey_. Ryan." Now she sounded... he wasn't quite sure how she sounded. Maybe he should've waited until Christmas break to do this, so they could be face to face and he'd have more of a clue how she was taking it. "I, you. Oh, sweetie. You know all of us love you no matter what. And it doesn't matter one bit who you date, as long as you're happy. I'm so glad you told me, and I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks, mom," Ryan said, voice rough.

"Oh, sweetie. You don't have to thank me—just make sure you use protection!"

Ryan huffed out a half-laugh, half-groan. "Yeah, I know, mom. Don't worry." At least over the phone she couldn't see the deep red flush he knew was all over his face. "Can we talk about something else now? Please?"

She laughed. "Of course, sweetie. Did I tell you about your cousin Michael and how he's applying to what seems like all the colleges in North America?"

"No, not yet," Ryan said gratefully. "Tell me." And she did.

Afterwards, he called his dad and they had pretty much the same conversation, only with less family gossip and more talk about what strategy Ryan should try on his next shootout attempt.

Later, as he watched hockey highlights from that night while eating a carefully nutritionally balanced dinner, he wondered if he should've told them about Hallsy and Ebs.

Then he realized he had no way to even put into words anything about Hallsy and Ebs, so it was probably a good thing he hadn't.

When he checked his email before bed that evening, he found that his brother Adam had sent him a note:

_Hey baby bro, hear you finally said something to mom and dad. Took you long enough! We've all known for a while, or at least suspected, but figured you'd tell us when you felt like it. Proud of you and everything, but don't ever tell me about your sex life. There are some things I just don't need to hear about, and my little brother having sex (no matter who with) is one of them. Ugh._

Like Ryan even had a sex life. He'd had sex, sure, but three experiences, two with girls and one with a guy, and none of them anything more than brief and experimental, did not a sex life make.

Of course, now that he'd been warned not to, all he wanted to do was tell Adam all about it, all the stuff he'd never told anyone, and all the stuff he still wasn't telling anyone, because who can you tell about having a thing for your teammates, who are apparently together? Outing Hallsy and Ebs was just not something he was willing to do.

He settled for a quick, basic reply:

_Fuck off, I had to listen to you talk about Mandy Jensen's tits for forty fucking minutes that time you got stoned and made me come get you at three in the morning and drive you home. You owe me._

_But thanks._

After pressing "send," he sat and stared blankly at his inbox for about ten minutes.

Then, with shaking fingers and nothing but a slight buzzing sound where normally thoughts should be in his head, he typed out an email to Hallsy and Ebs, asking them if they wanted to have dinner on their next off-day.

He had a hard time getting to sleep that night, and when he woke up the next morning, he was freezing cold despite his flannel pajamas (a Christmas present from his mom last year), having kicked off the covers as he slept.

It wasn't until after a shower and some coffee that he remembered the reason for the vague, clammy unease he was feeling. When he went to check his email again, both Hallsy and Ebs had replied, and had then launched right into a whole long discussion about whether they should go out or stay in, and upon deciding that they should just order in, they'd picked out a place to order from and settled on a time for Ryan to come over, all without any input from Ryan.

He sent back _sounds good_ to both of them, then threw on some workout clothes and went to the gym. If he was going to freak the fuck out, he might as well put all that extra adrenaline to good use while doing it.

 

5\. **Belonging.**

Practice was optional, the morning he was supposed to have dinner with Hallsy and Ebs, but Ryan didn't even consider skipping. Even if he didn't seem to have control over anything else in this situation, he was in control of this.

During practice, he focused hard, even harder than usual, letting everything narrow down to the puck and the ice and his skates and his stick, and he only got distracted once, when Ebs scored on Khabby during the 2-on-1 drills, and Hallsy knocked him to the ice in celebration. Ebs promptly flipped them and tried to pin Hallsy to the ice, and Hallsy struggled and managed to get his gloves off and hands under the hem of Ebs's jersey to tickle him, and then they spent the next couple of minutes wrestling, thrashing around on the ice and laughing their heads off. Everyone else just kept on practicing drills like nothing else was going on, and when it was Ryan's turn, Jonesy had to tap him on the hip with his stick before he realized. Which at least was a good excuse for ignoring the curious look Jonesy gave him. After practice, he rushed through changing and bolted as soon as possible, which had the unfortunate side effect of causing a mostly-undressed Hallsy to practically run across the dressing room and pull him into a sweaty, distinctly smelly hug while reminding him about dinner that night.

That afternoon, he decided to stick with as much of his regular schedule as possible, which meant lunch, gym, shower, and nap, in that order. He woke from his nap somewhat groggy and vague, but snapped awake suddenly when he remembered that tonight was dinner, and he couldn't even call to cancel, because it was all his own fault. Fuck.

He yanked on a pair of jeans and a wool sweater, then yanked them back off again and switched to a beat-up Rebels hoodie and warmup pants. Waking up on their couch having slept in his jeans was getting kind of annoying, and it turned out Ryan was pretty bad at ignoring patterns, no matter how much he might want to.

On the way there, Ryan stopped and bought some beer to bring with him, because hey, he could, and besides, he felt a little guilty about having basically invited himself over, even though it had really been their decision to stay in rather than go out to a restaurant or whatever. But still. Beer was always a good idea.

Everything started out just like normal, food and beer and _Captain America_ , except then they put on _Thor_ , and partway through the movie, Ebs made this frustrated sound and tugged on Ryan's arm until Ryan's shoulder hit his chest, and then sort of nudged him around until Ryan was leaning against him, head tucked under his chin and knees pressing awkwardly into Hallsy's thigh. After a minute, Hallsy put a warm hand on Ryan's knee and pulled gently, until Ryan lifted his feet and draped his legs across Hallsy's lap.

Hallsy's hands came down to rest on Ryan's calves. They were really, really distractingly warm—almost as distracting as the rise and fall of Ebs's chest as he breathed.

Both of Hallsy's thumbs were moving slowly, rubbing small circles into Ryan's calves, and Ryan was so focused on that sensation that he completely missed Ebs threading his fingers through Ryan's hair and using that grip to carefully tip Ryan's head back so he could look down at his face.

"Ryan," Ebs whispered, and Ryan opened his eyes to see Ebs staring at him from only inches away, and the angle was awkward but Ryan didn't care, he just _had_ to tilt his chin up and kiss him.

And fuck, fuck, Ebs's mouth felt fucking amazing on his, soft and rough all at once. Ebs's fingers in his hair tightened, Hallsy's hands stopped moving and clutched hard at Ryan's legs, and Ryan arched into the kiss with a desperate, wanting moan.

They kissed for who knows how many minutes, until Ryan's stupid, responsible brain finally managed to break through the haze of desire and cause him to push away from Ebs, panting.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Ryan said. "I mean, I don't even— you— I—" Ryan trailed off, staring at Ebs. Ebs, who was also breathing hard, eyes dark and intense and focused on Ryan's mouth.

Ebs licked his lips, then raised his gaze to meet Ryan's eyes. "Look," he said quietly. "It's okay if you're kinda freaking out. We can just, we can stop, and talk about it tomorrow or next week or next year or _never_ , if that's what you want, or—" Ebs licked his lips again, then flicked his gaze over to Hallsy briefly and swallowed hard before continuing, "or we can go to the bedroom and kiss some more, and maybe then, if you want, you can let Hallsy blow you."

Ryan felt his eyes go wide, and he slowly, slowly turned his head to stare at Hallsy.

Hallsy was holding stock-still, hands hot around Ryan's calves, leaned in towards Ryan and Ebs and watching them intently. His lips were red, like he'd been biting them, and he seemed to be holding his breath as he waited, eyes trained on Ryan's face. Ebs's fingers carded through Ryan's hair soothingly.

Ryan sucked in a deep breath. "Okay," he rasped.

Hallsy's eyes lit up, but he still looked a little worried. "Okay?" he asked.

Ryan nodded jerkily, once, twice. "Yes, yes, _please_ ," he said, and he heard Ebs huff out a relieved laugh behind him. Hallsy smiled like the sun coming out, and bounced up off the couch, knocking Ryan's feet to the floor as he did.

He led the way into what looked like the master bedroom, complete with a king-sized bed and its own bathroom off the far corner. He made a beeline for the bed and shoved the pile of comforter off the side of it, then pointed at the end of the bed.

"Here, sit here," he said, and Ryan sat down on the edge hesitantly.

Ebs climbed onto the bed behind him, one leg on either side of his hips, and rested his hands on Ryan's waist.

"This okay?" he murmured in Ryan's ear. Ryan shivered, and nodded, and Ebs pressed an approving kiss under Ryan's jaw.

Then he laughed, and climbed back off the bed. "This would probably work better if we got a little more naked," he said, and promptly yanked his t-shirt over his head and off, still laughing.

"Oops," said Hallsy, laughing too. He grinned at Ryan, and held out his hand until Ryan took it, then pulled Ryan to his feet.

Ryan felt a little awkward, just stripping like this, but it wasn't like they didn't see each other nearly naked in the dressing room all the time. Once he'd taken everything off, he sat back down at the foot of the bed.

Ebs, now also naked, climbed back onto the bed behind him. His chest pressed against Ryan's back, skin smooth and warm, and he stroked both hands down Ryan's sides and then back up, before resting them at Ryan's waist.

"Good?" he asked Ryan, and Ryan nodded again.

"Yeah, good."

"Awesome," said Hallsy, smiling, and nudged Ryan's legs a little further apart to drop to his knees in between them.

The sight of Hallsy on his knees in front of him made Ryan gasp, and he felt Ebs grin against the side of his neck. Ebs nipped him, making Ryan gasp again, and Ryan could hear the smile in Ebs's voice when he next spoke, low and hoarse into Ryan's ear. "He looks good like that, doesn't he?" Ebs's right hand drifted up to tweak Ryan's nipple, than pet its way down Ryan's stomach slowly. "Let me tell you, his mouth feels even better than it looks."

Ebs wrapped his hand around Ryan's cock and Ryan made a strangled noise and grabbed at the edge of the bed with both hands, just to have something to hold onto. Hallsy grinned up at Ryan as Ebs stroked him once, twice, then held him steady as Hallsy leaned in and curled his tongue obscenely around the tip.

"Fuck," breathed Ryan, and watched in fascination as Hallsy's lips followed his tongue, and then took him further in, slowly, centimeter by centimeter, until they met Ebs's fist at the base. Ebs's chin dug into Ryan's shoulder, also watching, as Hallsy drew his mouth up and then back down, over and over, slowly at first, then gradually faster. Hallsy's mouth was so warm, and so wet, and eventually he reached a steady beat, fingers digging into Ryan's thighs in the same rhythm.

Ebs kept one hand firmly around the base of Ryan's dick, holding him at the perfect angle for Hallsy's mouth, while his other hand roamed over Ryan's skin, brushing Ryan's nipple one moment, scraping lines with his fingernails down Ryan's side the next. His dick pressed insistently against the small of Ryan's back, and as Hallsy picked up steam, Ebs's hips started a slight but distinct rocking motion, rubbing against Ryan's skin. He pressed kisses into Ryan's neck, then bit softly at Ryan's shoulder, experimentally, making him moan.

By this point, Ryan couldn't think, couldn't do anything but tremble with the effort of holding himself still, caught between their hands and their mouths and the tense heat uncurling within him, until finally, finally, Hallsy sped up the rhythm just enough, and Ebs bit down hard at the nape of Ryan's neck, and Ryan managed to gasp out "Hallsy, I'm gonna—" as a warning before coming down Hallsy's throat.

Hallsy pulled off partway through and let Ebs stroke Ryan through the rest, so when Ryan got his eyes open again, it was to see Hallsy, still kneeling and smiling smugly, with come striped across his cheek and chin and halfway down his chest.

"Holy shit," he said, still reeling.

"Told you," Ebs laughed, and kissed Ryan's shoulder. Then he reached out his hand, the one covered in Ryan's come, and smeared his fingers through the mess on Hallsy's chin and along his jaw. Hallsy opened his mouth and sucked two of Ebs's fingers into his mouth, looking up at Ebs through his eyelashes. Ryan felt Ebs's dick twitch against his back, which made his own twitch half-heartedly in response.

Ebs pulled his fingers out of Hallsy's mouth, slowly, then grabbed Hallsy's wrist and tugged him up and towards the bed. Hallsy laughed and stood up, and Ebs scooted back on the bed, letting go of Hallsy's wrist. Ryan stood up, too, to get out of the way, and then sat back down next to them as Hallsy climbed up onto the bed to hover over Ebs.

Ebs ran his fingers through the drops of Ryan's come still on Hallsy's chest, looked at them thoughtfully, then drew Hallsy in towards him to swipe his tongue over Hallsy's jaw and up his chin, then in kitten licks across his cheek, before pulling him all the way in for a deep, thorough kiss.

Hallsy made a satisfied sound in his throat as they kissed, almost a rumble or maybe a purr, and ground their hips together enthusiastically.

"Yeah," Ebs bit out. "Yeah. But let me—" and he wriggled a hand in between them to find Hallsy's dick.

"Wait," said Ryan, and they both stopped moving to look at him. "I have an idea." He reached down to cover Ebs's hand on Hallsy's dick with his own hand, and after Ebs let go, stroked experimentally a couple of times.

"Okay, now move up, like, two inches," he said to Hallsy, and then Ebs's cock was brushing against Ryan's knuckles.

The angle was awkward, and he couldn't really move his hand that fast, but the sound Ebs made when Ryan managed to get his hand around both of them was so, so worth it. The three of them quickly found a rhythm that worked: Ryan's hand and Hallsy's hips and Ebs moaning in encouragement, or maybe just because he couldn't help it, Ryan wasn't sure, and didn't really care as long as he kept going. It only took a minute or two before Hallsy's hips started stuttering, and he groaned loud and long as he spilled over Ryan's hand.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Ebs said fervently. "For fuck's sake, one of you fucking kiss me already," and as Hallsy had just collapsed against Ebs's chest and was busy mouthing at his collarbone, Ryan took it upon himself to comply.

He kept kissing Ebs, and jerking him fast and tight, until Hallsy bit at one of Ebs's nipples with his teeth and Ebs threw his head back as he came, shaking and silent.

Ryan flopped onto his back next to Ebs as soon as he was done stroking him through his orgasm, and got his slick, slightly sticky hand on his own dick, which had gone from mostly soft to interested again to _really fucking hard_ all in a matter of minutes, and was just this side of painful. It only took a few breathless seconds before he was coming again, gasping and panting as he toppled back onto the bed and sprawled out, exhausted.

Ebs slid over to fit himself against Ryan's side, head pillowed on his shoulder, and after a minute Hallsy appeared at the other side of the bed, standing and holding two wet washcloths. He handed one of them to Ebs and used the other to wipe off Ryan's hand and stomach and chest, and then his own. He tossed both washcloths in the direction of the bathroom, then grabbed the comforter off the floor, climbed onto the bed, and snuggled into Ryan's other side. It was hot under the comforter and they were all still a bit sticky, but Ryan didn't care.

"We're keeping you," Ebs said sleepily into Ryan's shoulder. "Just so you know."

"'Kay," said Ryan, and then he was asleep.

When Ryan woke in the very early morning to find himself still sandwiched between them, he just smiled to himself and went back to sleep.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [spend an evening](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502462) by [Rest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rest/pseuds/Rest)
  * [We're Keeping You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4181418) by [heeroluva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva)




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